


Want Everything She Has

by f-ing-ruthless-baz (f_ing_ruthless_baz)



Series: Carry On Ficlets [8]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Jealousy, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_ing_ruthless_baz/pseuds/f-ing-ruthless-baz
Summary: I let him believe all the little looks in their direction—all the longing gazes and envious stares—were for her.It’s not a difficult pretence to maintain; she’s absolutely lovely. Agatha Wellbelove. Any man would want to be with her. Nearly.So I let him take that as he will.Baz’s fascination with his flatmate’s girlfriend isn’t for the reason Simon believes.[Update 2019-12-12: Agatha's POV ficlet linked in end notes]
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Ficlets [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1453180
Comments: 10
Kudos: 219





	Want Everything She Has

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little non-magic AU, where Simon and Baz are flatmates--probably in university, because they didn't choose to live together, I assume--and Baz is jealous that Simon is dating Agatha. Inspired by the song "Girl Crush" (specifically the [Harry Styles cover version](https://open.spotify.com/track/4YutJsNwBBInE8vemufpQ8?si=KI1AHJX5RNW0SE5Xsg1KKA), because of course that's the one I listen to, I'm trash).
> 
> Many thanks to the friends who read this over--WarriorBeeOfTheSea, The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff, NunziBelle, giishu, you are always wonderful to me. Thank you for reassuring me this wasn't total garbage! 😅

“If I really wanted her,” I say, using my height advantage to loom over him as I trap him against the door, “I would already have her.”

His eyes flit down to the collar of my shirt, briefly, and he swallows. “Why don’t you, then?” he asks, glaring up at me like a challenge.

“Because,”—I lean further into my forearm, pressed against the door above his head—“I don’t want her.”

* * *

That’s not entirely true. I do want her. I want everything about her, if it will make Simon Snow fall for me the way I’ve fallen for him. The way he’s fallen for her.

But I let him believe.

I let him believe all the little looks in their direction—all the longing gazes and envious stares—were for her.

It’s not a difficult pretence to maintain; she’s absolutely lovely. Agatha Wellbelove. Any man would want to be with her. Nearly.

So I let him take that as he will.

It was preferable to him knowing the truth. Knowing that my fixation with his girlfriend stems from nothing less than an all-consuming passion for him. I’d rather he resent me, despise me.

At least he’d be thinking about me.

* * *

When he followed me to my room, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Certainly not that I’d end up staring him down, close enough to count all the freckles on his cheeks, while his chest rises and falls between us with each breath.

He could push me away, easily. Shove me with his elbow and storm off. Or punch me in the face.

There are so many ways he could touch me right now.

But he doesn’t.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, jutting his chin forward. “Why were you watching me?”

I lower my face and my voice, slightly. “Why were _you_ watching _me_ , Snow?”

He jerks his head to the side, like he doesn’t know where to look now. “You started it.”

“Well…” I take a moment to watch the muscles in his jaw as he works it in frustration. “Maybe I just like getting to you,” I say, and he looks back up at me warily.

“You’re not _getting to me_ , Baz,” he says with a derisive snort. It seems forced.

I raise an eyebrow. “No?”

“I mean—” He huffs and tilts his head back against the door, angling his face up towards mine. “I think I can handle you just fine, by now.”

“Mm, yes, of course,” I say with a smirk. “That’s why you came running after me in a strop and barged in here, instead of ignoring me and focusing on your girlfriend, is that right?”

His eyes go cold and narrow. “Fuck off,” he says, shouldering me aside.

I back off enough to let him leave.

I have the decency to do that much, at least.

* * *

I’ll never be what he wants. I’ll never be _her_. With her milky gold hair and delicate features, and the way her eyes make you feel like every conversation with her is something precious. Something fleeting.

If I could actually love a woman—in the way my father would like me to—I suspect I could be swayed by her the way Snow has been. She plays the part of patient and loyal girlfriend well, but I know there’s more to her than that. I’ve seen it in the occasional glances we share in passing—the little looks and shy smiles when she’s here. Behind Snow’s back.

The looks that I let him believe mean something else altogether.

We recognize some unspoken affinity between us. Something beyond our parallel affection for my bronze-haired flatmate.

Although our affection for him might not be as parallel as I thought.

* * *

“Snow isn’t here right now,” I say when Agatha shows up at my door.

“I know,” she begins, tucking her hair behind one ear. “We broke up last week, actually.”

“I know.” I give her a once-over. She’s dressed as though she expected to see him here.

“I was… hoping to find you, actually,” she says. “Can I come in?”

I stand aside and she walks past me, taking a seat on the sofa. Her leg bounces anxiously for a moment before she stills it and invites me to sit next to her.

I’m hesitant. We’ve never been in such close proximity. When she was here, it meant Snow was with her. And I had to keep my distance.

I want to keep my distance now, but I’m curious. Curious what might have compelled her to seek me out. So I sit.

She tucks her hair behind her ear again and folds her hands in her lap, thumbs fidgeting. It’s not like her; she’s usually so calm. Bored, even. “Has Simon… Has he mentioned me since we…?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I say, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. Now I understand why she came. “He doesn’t tell me things. So if you’re trying to get back with him, I can’t _pass notes_ for you—”

“No, that’s not—I am not trying to get back together with Simon,” she says, speaking clearly so I will make no mistake about it. “I just wanted to know if…”

I look over my shoulder at her. “If what?”

“If he cared one way or the other, I suppose.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you—” I say as I turn away, but she places a hand on my arm to hold my attention.

“That’s… not really the answer I came for anyway,” she says, leaning into me.

I could stop this. I could pull back and turn my head and tell her I never really wanted her that way. I _should_.

But Simon Snow has kissed these lips. They’ve known him on a level I can only dream of. They’ve shared so many moments with him—soft moments, intimate moments, private moments under covers, hidden away from the rest of the world.

_I wonder if they could still taste like him…_

There’s nothing but peppermint and a poorly masked clandestine cigarette, though.

There’s nothing.

She pulls away and searches my face for something—an answer, perhaps.

I shake my head and lower it. “I’m not what you want,” I tell her.

“How do _you_ know?” she says, a bitter edge to her voice. “ _I_ don’t even know what I want!”

“I _can’t_ be what you need me to be,” I say, looking her in the eye. “Trust me.”

She holds my gaze a moment longer before she sighs and nods. “I know…”

* * *

The _thump, thump_ of Snow kicking off his shoes when he gets in is enough to tell me he’s not happy. Understandably.

Not that I expected him to accost me the moment he stepped into the kitchen, though.

“I thought you said you didn’t want her like that!” he says angrily, cornering me back against the cabinets.

“I don’t,” I reply as I try to regain my composure. I set the empty kettle in my hand on the counter next to me. “She kissed me.”

“Pfft, yeah. Like you had nothing to do with it.” He huffs a sarcastic laugh. “It’s not like she forced you.”

“No, I suppose she didn’t,” I say as I lean back on my arms.

His nostrils flare.

“In any case, Snow,” I continue, “she dumped you over a week ago. I don’t see why it should matter to you who she chooses to kiss.”

“Why’d it have to be _you_ , though?” he growls, stepping right up in my face with a menacing glare, and I smirk at him.

“Well, do you blame her?”

He grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me in until we’re merely a whisper apart. “ _Why did it have to be you?_ ” he asks again, quieter. Like it’s some terrible secret.

I feel exposed, all of a sudden, by his sincerity. “Because I understand.”

His grip on my shirt loosens, but neither of us moves an inch. “Understand _what_?”

“What it’s like when you don’t have feelings for the person you’re supposed to.”

“And…” he says, his fingers curling against my chest. “Who are _you_ supposed to…?”

I sigh and close my eyes. “Anyone else.”

He clutches the placket of my shirt in his fist once again and presses his forehead against mine. “I think I might… know something about that…” he says, his voice quavering with his unsteady breath.

“Simon, I—”

“Don’t— I just, I want…”

* * *

I was a fool to think anything could ever compare to this. Simon Snow. In my arms. In my bed. Lingering on my lips.

At least I can be certain he’s thinking about me now.

**Author's Note:**

> I've written up a little Agatha POV ficlet to go with this, which you can find on my tumblr: [Untouchable](https://f-ing-ruthless-baz.tumblr.com/post/189626947902/untouchable)
> 
> If you want to know about my WIPs and other random, vaguely Carry On or fanfic-related things I like to talk about, you can find me on tumblr as [@f-ing-ruthless-baz](https://f-ing-ruthless-baz.tumblr.com)!


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